were not a part of reality, he could feel the shock of them as though he
stood close to a man who was cutting down a tree with an axe.
And Andre smiled.
He was still smiling when they let him fall forward to the floor.
'I think he is dead,' said one of the guards. General Moses turned away
and walked back to his seat at the desk.
He was shaking as though he had run a long way, and his breathing
was deep and fast. The jacket of his uniform was soaked with sweat.
He sank into the chair and his body seemed to crumple; slowly the
brightness faded from his eyes until once more they were filmed over,
opaque and dreamy. The two guards squatted down quickly on each side of
Andre's body; they knew it would be a long wait.
Through the open window there came an occasional shout of drunken
laughter, and the red flicker and leap of flames.
Bruce stood in the centre of the tracks and searched the floor of the
forest critically. At last he could make out the muzzle of the
Bren protruding a few inches from the patch of elephant grass. Despite
the fact that he knew exactly where to look for it, it had taken him a
full two minutes to find it.
'That'll do, Ruffy,' he decided. 'We can't get it much better than
that.'
'I reckon not, boss.' Bruce raised his voice. 'Can you hear me?' There
were muffled affinnatives from the bush on each side, and Bruce
continued.
'If they come You must let them reach this spot before you open fire. I
will mark it for you.' He went to a small shrub beside the line, broke
off a branch and dropped it on the tracks.
'Can you see that?' Again the affirmatives from the men in ambush.
'You will be relieved before darkness - until then stay where you
are.' The train was hidden beyond a bend in the line, half a mile ahead,
and Bruce walked back with Ruffy.
The engine driver was waiting for them, talking with Wally Hendry beside
the rear truck.
'Any luck?' Bruce asked him.
regret, mon capitaine, that she is irreparably damaged.
The boiler is punctured in two places and there is considerable
disruption of the copper tubing.'
'Thank you,' Bruce nodded. He was neither surprised nor disappointed. It
was precisely what his own
judgement had told him after a brief examination of the locomotive.
'Where is Madame Cartier?' he asked Wally.
'Madame is preparing the luncheon, monsir,' Wally told him with heavy
sarcasm. 'Why do you ask, Bucko? Are you feeling randy again so
soon, hey? You feel like a slice of veal for lunch, is that it?' Bruce
snuffed out the quick flare of his temper and walked past him. He found
Shermaine with four gendarmes in the cab of the locomotive. They had
scraped the coals from the furnace into a glowing heap on the steel
floor and were chopping potatoes and onions into the five gallon pots.
The gendarmes were all laughing at something Shermaine had said.
Her usually pale cheeks were flushed with the heat; there was a sooty
